


Eyes on the Alleys

by skivingsnaccbox



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Harriett Potter, Inspired by The Rigel Black Chronicles, TW: Mentions of abuse, murkybluematter, recursive fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:28:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29074833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skivingsnaccbox/pseuds/skivingsnaccbox
Summary: Margo watches the Lower Alleys. And she watches Harry. And unlike the rest of them, she sees.Inspired by the Rigel Black Chronicles by murkybluematter.
Comments: 33
Kudos: 117
Collections: Rigel Black Universe





	1. Chapter 1

Margo watched. She watched her mother get sick and sicker, watched the color bleed from the tips of her fingers up to the disappearing pink flush on her cheeks. Margo sat on the windowsill in Maywell, small enough to almost disappear behind the old, worn curtain. The adults' mouths moved, silently it seemed, too quiet for her to hear what they were saying, even when they forgot she was there and spoke louder. She remembered only flashes of that time, and all those memories were bleached of sound. Just the image of Healer Hurst, so tall above her, shaking her head at Margo's father. And then her mother's face, so still that Margo knew there was nobody inside her anymore.

Margo watched the rubbish from her cot in the room she and her father shared. The pile of empty bottles grew until they overflowed the rubbish and started spreading across the sticky floor. She started sitting on the roof, her tiny hands barely able to pull her up. She noticed when her father stopped walking down to the right, towards work. And when he started spending all day in the grimy bar in the cellar, she saw him go in and then stumble out. She got tired of watching for him to come home, his face twisted, his feet barely working, but his fist working fine. She had to keep an eye out to make sure she was tucked in her cot with the blankets over her head so that he wouldn't break things or shout. So that he could forget she was there.

When she finally decided to leave on her tiny little feet, she spent two nights on the roof, watching, just in case. And she saw that her father kept making his way to the little bar, unaware she was gone.

* * *

The flowers filled her gaze, quiet, colorful. There were more colors than she would have expected in the violet, so many shades of purple. Margo held it up to the wind, and a single petal let go of the bud and floated, up and up and down again, dancing. Margo's eyes, wide, followed the petal. The wind was quiet.

It wasn't quiet in the large attic of the Dancing Dragon, where Jason and Cora and all the other children slept. They cuddled together on mats and in nests of blankets over piles of hay, and four kids slept foot to head in a single sagging big bed near the attic window. The music wafted up from the pub long into the night, but the other children had told her that she would get used to it. There were lots of kids, and some of them snored, but Margo liked the attic—there were twinkly lights on one of the walls, and toys in the corner, and a large pile of books with crinkled but readable pages. It was chaotic, but it was warm. There was always enough food, although the bread was usually two days old. And the other kids were nice—some of them a bit annoying, and one of them bragged far too much—but none of them were bullies. Margo was little, but she was old enough to know how rare that was. She was old enough to flinch, but she no longer flinched as much. And Cora tried so hard to make Margo talk and smile, and Margo was trying, just to make Cora happy. And she was getting better at talking and smiling, and now Cora was trying a little too hard to make Margo laugh.

"What do you think?" the lady who was in charge asked, holding out the enormous bouquet. Margo focused on her again. She was pretty and walked with a strong stride, as if aware that their little world bent around her. And when Margo, peeking from behind the bar, watched the room, the lady sat with the man they called the king. The lady had a friendly smile. Margo liked her well enough. The lady asked, "Would you like to be a flower seller?"

They had let Margo be for a month or so after Jason found her sitting on a curb, but eventually, the lady had said it was no good to mope around or sit and stare. It was time for Margo to have a job. Margo didn't mind that. The big kids all had jobs, and she was trying her hardest to be a big kid. Even though the big kids talked so much, and even though things sometimes still got so loud, they got quiet again.

Margo eyed the flowers. The flowers didn't talk. They just talked to each other, color against color, and she liked to look at them. Margo liked to look at things, and she pulled one flower and moved it to another bouquet. Now it looked better. She looked up at the lady. "Yes. I'll sell them."

* * *

"Candy, kiddo?" the king asked. He held out a fizzing whizzbee, and Margo's hand jumped out to get it. He twisted his wrist, and the candy was gone, and then it appeared again behind his ear. The king held it out one more time, and she tried again, faster, but now it was bouncing on his shoulder and his head.

"Highness," Margo said, staring up at him with the sweet smile and wide eyes that she had learned got her anything. She held out her small hand. "Please, can I have the candy?"

He winked and then smiled, and his smile was so warm and friendly that Margo almost stepped back. The king sort of glowed in the afternoon light. He gave her the candy, and Margo held onto it, putting it in her pocket to keep. He still didn't know Margo's name—there were so many children coming in and out of the Dancing Dragon—but Margo didn't care. His smiles were enough. The king came up to the attic sometimes to read them stories. He used different voices for all the characters, and he high-fived and ruffled their hair; it had only been a few months, but Margo already loved him. She sometimes sat in the rafters of the pub and watched him do his kingly business. He was so confident, and it made the whole pub feel safe. Margo liked feeling safe.

"You need faster hands, kid," the king said. He flipped her a coin, and her eyes widened. She dropped it. "Here," he said. "Hold it in your palm, then spin your palm like this. And now it's gone, see? You should always tuck your coins away where nobody else can get at them."

Margo looked down at her dress. She usually put the coins she earned in her pocket, but it was flimsy and gaped open. She glanced up at him. "Like my boot?"

"Good," he said. "That'll do. Here's how to palm the coin and then get it to your boot unnoticeably."

It took her three tries to do it right, but he clapped and shouted when she did. "I got it," Margo exclaimed, a short laugh slipping out.

The king's eyes focused on her, a small smile dancing around his crooked mouth. "It's good to see you smiling and talking, Margo. Let's see more of that, shall we?"

Margo dropped the coin. "You know my name?"

"I'm the king, and this is my castle," he said, grinning. "I know everything." And then he leaned in so that he was whispering in Margo's ear, so that it felt like they had a secret. "Margo, do you want to help me know even more?"

Margo didn't know what that meant, but she was already nodding.

* * *

"That'll be two knuts," Margo said, smiling warmly, making sure her dimples popped. "Are you sure you don't want a daisy? It'll brighten her day."

The portly man, after one more glance at her, nodded, and she watched him walk away with satisfaction. There were now three knuts in her boot. He almost slammed into a girl carrying a box of bottles, barely getting out of the way in time. Margo's gaze switched immediately.

The girl had black hair and worn boots, and shiny glasses. And everybody thought she was a boy, even the king, but Margo knew better. Margo was a watcher. You couldn't hide much from her. The king was a watcher too, Margo had realized, but something about the girl had blinded him. He didn't see her clearly. Margo could have won a smile and a coin, probably even a sickle, from telling him the truth, but she liked the girl. Margo watched her carry her bottles back and forth, watched the strange way she trusted the world around her, and Margo trusted her for trusting them.

Her name was Harry, and she'd never even seen Margo, despite all the colors Margo carried. Harry had a one-track mind. But Margo knew she was one to keep an eye on. She wanted to keep Harry's secrets; it made the watching more fun. Margo picked up her basket and disappeared into the crowd to tell the king Harry was back. There was a knut and a smile waiting for her back home.

* * *

They had moved all the children to a barn deep in the Alleys, and they hadn't told them why. The others were asleep, but Margo climbed out the window.

She made her way along the roofs, the moon shining above. She could see the fire from far away. It was raging by the time she got there. She knew it should be crackling; she knew she should hear the sounds of grunts and metal on metal. But her sound had gone away again. She just heard silence.

It was like dancing, except for the way the blood kept flying across the square. Margo changed roofs and saw movement below. It was dark, but that had never troubled Margo. It was Harry. Another man was there suddenly, with a knife. Margo knew she was seeing Harry die, but just this once, Margo was going to do more than look. Harry wasn't allowed to die. Margo knew her, and dying wasn't for her. Margo grabbed a loose shingle, readying herself to throw it on the bad man's head.

More movement, Margo froze. The king was there, and he saved Harry, and Harry ran away.

Margo settled in again, her eyes on the Dancing Dragon. She watched her home burn.

* * *

Margo could see Cora get sick. She didn't get pale, the way Ma had. But Margo could see the sick creeping up towards Cora's hands. Margo didn't let herself get quiet. Margo was smiley now and cheerful, and everybody liked her, and that was the Margo Cora needed, even if Cora had always been kind to the Margo who was sad.

Margo watched Cora in the bed. She watched the nurses watch Cora. And she knew they couldn't help her, long before they admitted it to themselves. The adults cared about the kids, but they were from the Lower Alleys. Margo had long since learned that even if the Alleys grown-ups cared about them, the rest of the world didn't. And sometimes, all the Alleys love wasn't enough to save an Alleys kid.

She'd seen it before. It was going to be like that again.

"She can't move so good," Margo said, watching the nurse. The nurse said something back, and Margo pasted a smile on her face, but she knew. The medicine wasn't coming.

Margo went back into the room to smile at Cora until she died.

* * *

Margo was watching when Harry came into the room. And Harry hadn't even decided what to do, but Margo watched her body change. And Margo was glad she'd spent so much time watching Harry because she knew what that meant. Harry had a one-track mind, and her mind was on Cora now. And Harry didn't know what to do, but she was going to fix it. Margo loved the king, and the king loved Harry, and Margo knew that he loved her because she was special—because in some deep part of her, Harry could do things and fix things other people couldn't.

A day later, Harry came into the room, and she was saying something, and she seemed sort of tense, and Margo wasn't listening. In times like this, it was hard to hear. Harry was tense, and Margo was nervous, even though she could see Harry had medicine in her hands. So why was she tense? Margo scanned the room again, noticed how Harry's shoulders were turned away from the bushy-haired girl. Margo paused. That was why Harry was worried. Margo considered the bushy-haired girl. She didn't seem bad, but Harry didn't like her. Margo considered spilling something on her to make her leave, but Cora still needed her company so Margo couldn't get herself kicked out. Harry could take care of herself, and Margo wanted to watch Cora get better.

* * *

"There she is," Margo said confidently. She poked Jason. "Go tell the King."

Jason crouched down, examining the flood of legs. "I don't see 'er."

Margo rolled her eyes. Jason never saw anything useful. She flicked his ear. "Dummy. She got new boots. I saw her first, so you have to go tell him. I'm tired."

"New boots? Why would she do that? That's not fair to us!" Jason exclaimed. His nose wrinkled. "You always see her first."

"Yes," Margo said, lifting her chin and grinning. "I do."

* * *

Margo watched the first time they showed the tournament on the mirrors in Diagon Alley. The others were disappointed in her haul that day. She didn't make as much money as she should have. But Margo was too focused on the girl in the mirror. They all thought she was a boy again, and this time they also thought she was someone else.

Margo followed the king for the next few days. She realized quickly he didn't know. For a long while, she considered telling him. But he loved Harry, and he would worry for her. And she was very far away, where the king couldn't help her.

Margo had promised herself to keep Harry's secrets. So Margo said a prayer to the Great Mother Goddess, the way Lady Rispah had taught her. And Margo kept what she had seen to herself.

* * *

Her stride was different. Not confident, as usual. Almost clumsy, dragging with exhaustion. But Margo knew those boots. Harry was back.

Margo had felt restless and decided to go for a walk. She tried to trust her gut. And it had been worth it. Harry was here, and Margo had seen the task, and Margo was older now and wiser, and she had already known the truth. It all made sense.

Margo moved closer. The moon illuminated a fraction of Harry's face, barely a triangle containing her right eye. There was a tear resting beneath her lower lashes. Harry didn't even notice it was there, but Margo saw it.

She followed Harry to her apartment that Margo wasn't supposed to know about but did. Harry didn't look too good, and if something happened to her, Margo would help. Margo was tougher now. Margo owed Harry for Cora, and for making Leo happy, and for reasons of her own that Margo didn't fully understand.

Harry stopped at a corner store and bought groceries haphazardly, emerging with two pints of milk and no cereal and an entire watermelon but no vegetables. Through the window of the shop, Margo could see her just tossing things in a bag.

She ghosted Harry until Harry was in the apartment with the door locked. Margo dozed on the roof across the street as Harry slept inside, opening an eye now and then to check what was happening. When the Aurors came with that other boy Margo knew was her cousin, Margo briefly considered running for the king. Then Clara Botting tumbled out of the house and started scrambling down the street and away toward the Phoenix, with Mrs. Botting's exhortations to hurry following her down Dogwood Lane. Margo huffed dismissively. Clara was much slower than Margo. But things were happening, and Margo had a good view of the apartment. Leo would want a full report.

* * *

"She was at Hogwarts," Margo said from her perch on Harry's window.

The king whipped around, a knife in hand. When he recognized her, he relaxed. "What are you talking about?" he asked, but she could tell he had already mostly put it together. He was just trying to make all the information stick.

"Harry. I saw her coming here, after the task. She was tired and running from something. She was wearing her boots. I followed her here."

Leo's mouth worked as he nodded slowly. He reached down, picking up a sweater off the couch that Harry had discarded in a hurry. His fist clenched around the wool. He focused back on Margo, his voice thrumming with an unfamiliar tension. "You can't tell anyone. If anyone finds out, she'll—“

"I didn't tell anybody before," Margo said, almost contemptuously. "Why would I now?"

He froze. "Before?"

"It was obvious it was her. From the first task," Margo said. She preened slightly. Now that the truth was out, she could finally show Leo how observant she really was. "I've known for months, and I didn't tell _anybody_. I can keep a secret."

"You didn't tell me," the king said. His voice was hard, and Margo watched his muscles tense. She realized, suddenly, that telling him she had known was a bad idea. "You knew, and you didn't tell me. I trusted you to tell me important information. You didn't tell me about _Harry_." His voice almost cracked on her name.

"I—“ Margo's mouth moved, but nothing came out. She'd never seen him look that cold. Not at her. That was how he looked at enemies.

"Damn it, Margo," he hissed, raising a hand, and Margo flinched. He froze and then finished the gesture, running a hand through his hair. His shoulders slumped. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid. But you're supposed to tell me things. How can I trust you if you don't tell me things?"

"I'm sorry," Margo said, her voice small. "I'm really sorry."

The king nodded, already glancing back at the sweater. "It is what it is. We'll discuss this later. I have other things to do right now."

Margo nodded, her throat tight. She slipped back out the window and swung herself onto the roof, running deeper and deeper into the back areas of the Lower Alleys. Margo needed to get away, to get away from the disappointment, from the look on his face.

She cried on the second-floor window ledge of a building with boarded windows and lots of broken glass, on a street where people lolled on the ground. Their eyes were red as they gave themselves to the drugs. Margo had seen what the drugs did, and she didn't bother watching or listening to their blissful moans. She was too busy hating herself for making the king look at her like that. He wouldn't love Margo anymore, and she'd been working so hard for so many years to earn his love. He had so many children who fought for the scraps of his affection, and she'd just lost what she'd gained.

Margo couldn't look at herself, all cracked, in the reflection of the half-broken window. So she watched the street. And she watched a flash of red hair, a face she'd seen before. And Margo knew where she'd seen her, only yesterday. She was a scary woman, a dangerous one. But the king would want to know, and maybe if Margo could give the king information he wanted, he might love her again. The woman moved furtively down the street and then disappeared into a basement under a wooden building that tilted tiredly to the side. Margo hesitated. Basements were bad. There were never very many ways to escape, and there were lots of ways to be spotted. If she went into that basement, she might not come out again.

She remembered how the king smiled at her when she first figured out how to disappear a coin. She knew what pride looked like, and she’d do anything to have it back. Margo followed the scary lady into the dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to AO3, today is International Fanworks Day!! So I'm giving Margo a bit of love. Happy IFD and Happy Valentine's Day, whichever you prefer to celebrate. 
> 
> This was originally intended to be a two-chapter, but now it will be three!

Cora shifted in their nest uncomfortably, a bit too cold. She cracked her eyes open and patted next to her. Margo hadn't come home for the second night. It was odd, and now Cora was very, very cold. She pulled her blanket closer and shifted towards her left, where Alan snored. He was small, and a little bit too stinky, and nowhere near as nice to cuddle with as Margo, but needs must. Cora drifted back to sleep.

The sun was flooding through the attic window and over Cora's eyes when she finally woke up. Alan was gone, and the spot where Margo slept was empty. Cora frowned, surveying it. She glanced up. "Lucy, have you seen Margo?"

"No," the older girl said, her nose wrinkled. "And she missed her shift yesterday. Someone has to sell those flowers, so you better tell her to show up."

"She hasn't slept here in two nights," Cora said. "I think something might be wrong."

"She goes off by herself," Lucy said. "Drives me up the wall, how she'll take the window out and then leave it slightly cracked so that I have to get up and close it. She'll be back."

Cora nodded slowly. Margo's warmer jacket was still bundled up to serve as a pillow. Cora reached down and grabbed it. The first night Margo was gone, Cora hadn't been too worried. It was rare, but Margo sometimes did go off for long walks and not come back till morning. But Cora had a bad feeling. And when you spent your days juggling knives, you learned to trust your feelings.

"Have you seen Margo?" Cora asked Solom on her way downstairs, filching a meat pasty with a light hand.

"You should be tellin' me," he said, eyeing her suspiciously. "Two peas in a pod, you two."

Annie, the scullery maid, asked, "Have you two had a fight? She's probably just gone off to feel sorry for herself. Sisters fight."

"They aren't sisters," Jason exclaimed. Cora glared at him. "But ye aren't," he said defensively, raising his hands.

"We're close enough, aren't we?" Cora said, sticking out her tongue. She turned back to Annie. "We haven't fought. Will you tell me if you see her?"

Annie had barely started to nod before Cora was out the door. The troupe was performing on the corner of Diagon and Knockturn in two hours. Cora ran through the flood of people in King Arthur's Square, her eyes peeled for familiar curls. "Mrs. Fairley, have you seen Margo?" she asked, but the fruitseller hadn't. Mr. Krait hadn't either. When Cora willed up the courage to enter Borgin and Burke's, one look at Burke made it clear to her that Margo hadn't been there either.

Cora covered a lot of ground in two hours, all the ground where Margo would typically be. She swung back to the Phoenix at a sprint. "Solom, has she come back?"

"You're supposed to be performing, aren't you? I heard the troupe shoutin' for you five minutes past," Solom said, waving a soup spoon.

"I'm going," Cora said around pants. "But has Margo come back?"

"Haven't seen her, but she'll turn up."

Cora opened her mouth and then closed it. There was nothing to say. She sprinted to Diagon Alley and slipped into her spot in the line-up just in time to drop her second knife.

* * *

Cora frowned on her way to Maywell. The slash down her forearm was enough punishment; she didn't need a lecture about her carelessness. Yes, watching little children get injured was bad for business, and yes, she needed to concentrate, but how was she supposed to do that when Margo was missing, and nobody seemed to care? Cora knew that the boss had only shouted because he was worried, but it was still annoying.

Madam Hurst hadn't seen Margo either, and she was too busy fussing over Cora to worry about Margo at all. That was the problem with Maywell. After the bad time, the healers were obsessed with Cora. All of them. They fussed over her and almost cried over her scratches and seemed utterly convinced that if she started throwing torches, she'd burn herself alive, and then all their hard work would be for nothing. Jason was jealous because they gave Cora as many of the front desk mints as she wanted whenever she visited. He'd eventually stopped complaining when he realized she always shared some with him. And then he'd start complaining that Cora gave Margo more mints than she gave him, and she'd throw a pillow at him, and the mints would be forgotten in the chaos.

Healer Hurst and Janice and all of them were nice, but Cora hadn't been sick for a year, and she wished they would just let her forget it and stop looking at her like she was about to die. Cora liked her life, and she liked her job, and she liked her friends, and she liked her sister—even if Cora knew Margo would be freaked out if Cora ever called her that to her face—and she liked the court, and she liked the Phoenix, and she liked the king, and she liked the city. Cora liked a good time, and Cora liked to think positive, and Maywell always made her gloomy.

Today, it made everything even worse. On her way out, she asked Janice again, "You will tell me if Margo comes, won't you?"

Janice nodded abstractly and said, "If you have any trouble in your right arm again, you stop using the knives. It might be lingering effects on the muscle from your illness."

"It's not!" Cora exclaimed, throwing both arms in the air. "I'm not sick anymore."

Janice blinked. "Of course not, darling, but we just have to keep an eye out."

"Then keep an eye out for Margo, would you?" Cora asked. She didn't bother to close the door gently on the way out. And the worst part was, nobody at Maywell would yell at her for it. She could burn the place down, and they'd probably say it was a lingering effect of her illness. Almost dying meant that Cora could get away with whatever she wanted. Whenever anyone got mad at her, they would just remember watching her almost waste away and then go back to being soft and kind. That's why Jason made her do the riskiest parts of any of their pranks. But Cora wished that just for a second, they would all focus on Margo instead. She was missing, and nobody cared.

Well, that wasn't quite true, Cora admitted to herself. If they actually thought Margo was missing, they would care. But everyone thought Margo was so smart and so independent and so observant and all those wonderful things that they thought she could take care of herself and they should just leave her alone, and being smart and independent didn't mean Margo knew how to keep herself alive. And it didn't mean Margo wanted them to leave her alone. Margo was the one who needed some fussing, and Cora was the one they fussed over against her will.

Cora snorted. Grown-ups didn't know anything.

She was supposed to go back to the troupe when her arm was healed, but just as her feet started to turn, she stopped herself. She ran to the Phoenix, where the king stood in a circle of shouting people. One of them was holding up one of those silly posters of Harry—except the outsiders thought it wasn't Harry—and another one was loudly complaining about the Aurors breaking his products while searching his shop. Clara Botting was getting under everybody's feet and nodding emphatically. Cora didn't know much, but she knew that Clara Botting had no reason to be there. Clara Botting was always butting in, and it was so annoying. She had her own parents to annoy in her own house, and Cora didn't know why she insisted on annoying people here.

Cora started pushing her way through the knot, listening as the king did his best to respond to three conversations at once. Every now and then, he directed messages to one of the Phoenix kids who weren't currently working, and they would run off to pass his messages along while he kept dealing with incoming complaints. Everyone was in an uproar over the tournament and all that. And Harry was involved, and when things were less urgent, Cora would have a think on what to do about Harry. Cora owed her. But Margo was the priority, so savior or not, Harry could deal with her own stuff.

"Hey, you shoved me," Clara hissed as Cora shuffled closer to the king.

"I have to talk to the king, and you're in my way," Cora muttered. "Unlike you, I have rogue business."

"I doubt that," Clara said, looking at Cora up and down. Cora seriously debated pulling the knife out of her pocket and cutting off one of Clara's matching plaits, but it would be a distraction from her mission. Cora just maneuvered Clara out of the circle of people and blocked her way back in.

Cora waited for the barest break, and then she shoved in, tugging on the king's clothing. "Highness, Margo's missing," she shouted, her voicing piping over all the others.

The king focused his attention down. "Cora? What did you say?"

"I said Margo's missing. She hasn't come home for two nights. She's never done that before. And she didn't go to work yesterday. I looked everywhere she ever goes, and she isn't anywhere."

The king's eyes squeezed shut, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, swearing. "You haven't heard from her at all?"

"No," Cora said. "Not anything. Nobody's seen her."

"She's fine," the king said, frowning. "I was angry at her and was probably too harsh on her. I know it upset her, and she's just run off to work through her feelings."

"You yelled at Margo?" Cora asked, her eyes narrowing into a glare. "Why would you do that?"

"She didn't do her job," the king said shortly. "She'll come back. She's just upset. When you see her, tell her I'm not mad, and it's fine." He started to turn away.

Cora's fists clenched. "Margo's missing, and you don't care," she shouted. "Who yells at you when you don't do your job? Nobody, I bet." She turned around, pushing her way through all the grown-ups, who moved to fill the space.

A piercing whistle filled the yard, and the movement froze. The king pushed his way out of the knot of people, grabbing Cora. He squatted so that he could look her in the face. At this level, Cora could see the dark purple circles under his eyes and how bloodshot his eyes were. He looked terrible. He said quietly, "You're right, and I deserved that. I shouted at Margo, and I shouldn't have. I wasn't paying attention, and I think I hurt her feelings." He sighed. "But that doesn't mean she's actually missing. When her feelings are hurt, does she normally disappear for a bit?"

"No," Cora bit out. "She just puts the covers over her head and pretends she isn't there. When she's mad at me, she does that even though I sleep right next to her. If you hurt her feelings, she would have more reason to have come home, not less. When she's scared or sad, she goes into her bed nest and under the covers, always."

"So you think something's definitely wrong?" the king confirmed. He balanced his wand on his hand and did a quick point-me, but it didn't move—she was out of range of the spell. His frown deepened. He looked back at the group of people, their short silence already building into mutters and complaints and shouts again. He rubbed irritably at his temples. "And at the worst possible moment." Cora waited. He finally said, "I can't look for her myself—"

"But—"

The king held up a hand, stopping Cora. "I can't look for her right now. There's too much that needs to be done, and the Aurors are everywhere. But I'm going to call all the children in and tell them to spread out and start searching. I'm also going to have Rispah make up some posters as quick as possible and get them posted. If you haven't found her by…" he glanced up at the sun. "Six o'clock tonight, you come to me, and we'll get the whole court out. She's probably fine, but I don't want her out alone for another night. The dark isn't safe. And if you haven't found her by six, you come back here, and you leave the search to the grown-ups. Do you promise?"

"Yes," Cora lied immediately. The king nodded.

He stood up and shouted with his special king voice, "Margo is missing. I want everyone who is moving around today to keep an eye out for her and ask around. Let people know. I want her found by tonight!"

* * *

Six o'clock passed. And then midnight. "Three nights," Cora whispered, perched on a rooftop under the moonlight. "Margo, where are you?"

She woke to morning sunlight and pushed herself out from between two chimneys. She ran back along the roofs towards the Phoenix, sure that Margo must be home. But when she was still a good ways away, she heard little Jilly. "Margoooo, Coraaaaaa!" Jilly was half-singing, half-shouting as she walked down the street with Kat, another of the sevens. "Margooooo, Coraaaaa!"

"I'm up here," Cora shouted.

Jilly and Kat stopped. Jilly asked, "Cora?"

"I'm alright."

"Where's Margo?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you. Hasn't she come back? I know nobody found her by six."

Kat said, "Nah, we left the Phoenix at eight or so, and she hadn't come back yet. They think you're missing too."

Cora's hand tightened on a roof shingle. "Tell 'em I'm 'kay. And I'm gonna keep looking."

"' highness won't be happy. He looked fit to be tied when you didn't come back last night."

"I know what I'm doing," Cora said.

Jilly thought about this and then nodded. That's why Cora liked the littles. They had the proper respect for their elders. "Okay. Tell Margo I say hello."

Cora nodded. "Keep lookin' for her yourself, Jilly, Kat. But stay out in the open, and don't go anywhere bad."

Jilly nodded. "I know. The grown-ups are searching where we aren't supposed to go. They just want us to keep calling in case Margo makes her way back but is lost or blind or sometin. I dunno." Jilly paused. "Once they started lookin', they started hearin' things. People are saying Margo inn't the only one missing."

"What?"

"Some sort of monster. Maybe a basilisk? Nah, they're all dead. I dunno some kind of snake thing. That's what Jason said. But only in the past few days. Two other kids or three. Whose parents aren't part of the court, and didn't come to the king straight off until we started asking," Jilly said.

"A snake is eating other kids?" Cora asked doubtfully. "Margo is pretty good with snakes. She's not afraid of animals."

"I dunno. I think it's a monster. That's why they want us in the main roads. And together. And not talking to strangers."

"A monster," Kat repeated.

Cora nodded, frowning. Margo wouldn't be caught by a monster. She was tough.

"Catch," Cora said. She tossed Jilly a Maywell mint, and Jilly immediately popped it in her mouth. "Tell the others that whoever finds Margo gets a lifetime supply of mints."

"But you don't have a lifetime supply of mints to give," Jilly pointed out.

"Sure I do," Cora said. "Didn't you know that I'm always on the verge of dying? Great way to get mints."

"Huh," Kat said, considering this. "We'll tell th'others. Bye."

Cora waved and started running in the other direction. The wind followed her, carrying a ghostly rendition of Jilly's new song. "Margooo," she sang off-key, "MargoOOOooo, where are you? Margooo, MargooOOOOoooo…"

Cora ran faster until she escaped the wind.

* * *

Cora had never been this deep in the Alleys. She was moving a lot slower now. She checked around herself before she went anywhere and doing her best to stay out of sight. It was broad daylight still, sunset a full hour away, but she was shivering. Cora had been in the attic of the Phoenix as long as she remembered, and she'd seen plenty of rough things, but this was something different. There weren't really any children laughing.

Cora shivered. When she asked Margo where she came from a long time ago, Margo had pointed this direction, towards the Cesspool. She said it was a long way, and Cora had known that a long way toward the Cesspool meant the Cesspool—the worst, most depressing, awfulest neighborhood in all of London. Had Margo decided to go home? Cora didn't like that idea. Home was the Phoenix, for Cora and for Margo. But maybe Margo wanted to come to a place she sort of knew? Cora wrapped her arms around herself, leaning against the eaves of a building with an uncomfortably unstable roof and eyeing the muddy street below. There were a few kids there, but they looked too pale. A woman came out and called them in, and they followed glumly. She patted them fondly, and that pat turned to a hug as one of them started coughing real bad.

Cora winced. Even Maywell couldn't do much about a cough like that. Margo liked to talk about how much better life would be if she still had a mum, and Cora never really understood that. Lots of people had mums, and plenty of them had a worse time than the Phoenix kids. Cora and Margo still had a family, just an odd one, and they weren't coughing up blood in muddy dumps like this. Cora was pretty sure that Jilly actually did still have a mum, and that she'd dumped Jilly at the Phoenix in the middle of the night because she thought the Rogue would give Jilly a better life. Plenty of families didn't mind sending their children into a life of crime or crime-adjacent work as long as it would feed them. Cora approved of that. Jilly was nice and plump and had Kat as a sister now, and those kids looked like sad sticks. The Rogue tried to help all the kids even if they still lived with their families, but Cora thought live-in Phoenix kids were luckiest.

Cora took one more wary look at the road, then started examining the house for the best way down. The roofs from here on out were uneven, with big gaps and spikes on the top. She'd have to keep looking on the ground.

She made her way down and started wandering. She didn't call for Margo or do anything to draw attention to herself, just skirted people and stayed in the shadows. As dark fell, that got harder. There weren't as many people out, and Cora knew she stuck out.

But Margo was close. Cora didn't know how she knew that, but she did. She kept moving. All of a sudden, she was hit on the shoulder. She screeched, fighting to get off the claws of—oh. It was just a cat. She had stumbled into a side alley and off the main road in her frantic effort to get it off. The cat was on the ground in front of her, and as she started to step forward to get back to the road, it jumped at her legs again. It grabbed a trouser, tugging, and she swore. Out of surprise, more than anything else, she fell behind a pile of rubbish, her hand going into something mucky. Cora swore. That cat landed on top of her chest and yowled.

Its yowl sounded like it was saying _quiet!_ Cora blinked, her words dying in her throat. This cat was odd. It was black, with eyes so purple they glowed. Impossible eyes.

Cora started to open her mouth again, and the cat's claw tightened in her shirt. This time, when it meowed, Cora definitely heard it telling her to be quiet. Maybe she was too sleep-deprived? Cats don't talk.

"Didja hear that?" A gruff voice said. "Sounded like a kid."

"No more kids, I'm done with kids for the day."

"The shadow snake inn't. The more kids, the more he pays."

Cora froze, shrinking deeper behind the rubbish. The cat suddenly leaped up on the rubbish and meowed, and then knocked over a pile of tin and made more yowls.

"Just a bloody cat," the first voice said. "C'mon."

Cora didn't move until the voices were gone, and then she carefully gathered herself up and started brushing off what grime she could. She was less than successful. The clothes would have to be binned.

When she was fully up, she turned her attention to the cat. It was staring at her, two blinking purple balls of light illuminating the alley. When it saw she was standing, it flicked its tail and started to trot off. She watched it go. It stopped, came back, meowed in an aggravated way, and then turned again and started to trot off.

"You want me to follow?" Cora asked. The cat nodded. She frowned, but somehow her night had gone in a direction where following a cat seemed like the best option. The world is full of impossible things, and Cora had seen stranger. She said, "I thought you could talk."

The cat just huffed.

Cora sighed and said, "Go on then."

Cora followed the purple-eyed cat into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if the talking purple-eyed cat came out of nowhere, you need to be reading more Tamora Pierce. This is unapologetically going in a very Tamora direction. 
> 
> Tortall content:  
> the cat :)  
> The Cesspool = worst neighborhood in the Lower City, so the equivalent of the Lower Alleys.  
> The shadow snake = a very sus kidnapper...but that's not the direction we are going, so enjoy the ride (by which I mean the eventual last chapter).
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!!


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